Wears the green coronal of leaves with which My heart is awed within me when I think ever gay and beautiful youth The freshness of her far beginning lies And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate Of his arch-enemy Death yea, seats himself 85 Upon the tyrant's throne the sepulchre, And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth There have been holy men who hid themselves Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, 5 And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood? The wind-flower and the violet, they perished long ago, But on the hills the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood, 15 And the yellow sun-flower by the brook, in autumn beauty stood, Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the plague on men, And the brightness of their smile was gone, from upland, glade, and glen. And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home; 20 When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more. And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died, 25 The fair meek blossom that grew up and faded by my side.° In the cold moist earth we laid her, when the forests cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief: Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of ours, So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers. 30 THE GLADNESS OF NATURE Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother Nature laughs around; When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground? There are notes of joy from the hang-bird° and wren, 5 The clouds are at play in the azure space And their shadows at play on the bright-green vale, 10 And here they stretch to the frolic chase, And there they roll on the easy gale. There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, 15 And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles 20 TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN° THOU blossom bright with autumn dew, Thou comest not when violets lean 5 Thou waitest late and com'st alone, 10 And frosts and shortening days portend |